A Broken Affinity
by scarlettswan
Summary: Hermione's world has changed; she craves a life free of expectations and responsibility. Draco's world is quickly approaching; his family name will finally carry out its destiny and Draco doesn't want that at all.
1. Chapter 1

**A Broken Affinity**

Chapter 1: A Girl in a Place She Was Never Meant to Know

"She doesn't deserve to be in a place like this, all alone. She's underage and so very very brave. Her fake id lent her credibility. She sits at the bar; the gents are gunna try so hard. He said it was a one night stand but the alcohol wouldn't let her understand. So what made you think that he couldn't find a door in the morning when he found that bed so easily in the dark?" – _The Fourth Drink Instinct_

Strands of curls, messy and auburn, wrapped around her neck in a way that frustrated her. She kept pushing her slop of hair back behind her thin shoulder blades, but it never failed to stick, again, to her throat. Sighing, she lay her head on the cool marble countertop and tried to let the music throb through her. She tried to block out her recent breakup and the fact that she was here against the rules with an id that lied about her young age. She didn't want to think about life, just the music.

"Come on, love." The bartender, whose name Hermione couldn't seem to remember, smiled sympathetically at her. She rolled her eyes, disgusted and nauseous. She didn't need or want his sympathy. She only wanted another drink – or two. "Love, you need to stop," He continued. Hermione rolled her eyes and placed her chin in her hands.

"I'll watch out for her, Jerry," A tall, handsome – slightly blurry – man laid his hand comfortingly on her back. She saw black hair and dark eyes, but no other defining characteristics because she couldn't really seem to see - or at least process - anything at all. She straightened in effort to better see Black Hair, and the action caused her to fall clumsily off of the barstool. He chuckled grimly and caught her, the warmth of his fingertips seeping into her thin shirt. Her spine tingled in an unpleasant way and she suddenly wished she wouldn't have worn the revealing top.

"Alright, just make sure she doesn't drink anymore," Jerry said, like he cared. Hermione stuck out her tongue at him as Black Hair led her to the door. Jerry shook his head and went back to serving people – like he should've been earlier, instead of watching out for her. She wondered briefly if he knew she was younger than twenty-one and that's why he was so obnoxious about it, but then blew off the thought. She realized she really didn't care.

As this stranger led her out of the bar, she noticed after a moment that he'd started talking to her.

"…and I can't believe you'd abuse her kindness like this, it's just not like you…" More like reprimanding her, she noted after a minute of his annoying rant.

"Who _are_ you, my father?!" She wrenched herself out of his grasp and wished angrily that she could remember why his face was so familiar to her. He almost seemed like her father, but that couldn't be possible since her father would never be anywhere near a wizard bar.

"Come on, Hermione, you need to get home now." He sighed, and her eyes widened in response to her name.

"How do you know me?" She asked quietly, fear pooling in her stomach.

"Hermione, it's bloody me. Sirius! I can't believe you're so wasted you don't even remember." He grabbed her again and she was more comforted now that she knew who it was. However, guilt also rose up in her. He probably wouldn't look at her in a positive way anymore and she was worried that he'd tell Molly – who had so kindly taken her in for the summer while her parents traveled.

"Sorry," she slurred and held onto her head, which now pounded. _Could the alcohol wear off so fast?_

"You will be if Molly finds out," he murmured as he apparated her back to the Burrow. Her stomach churned from the sensation.

"If?" She asked, hopeful that he wouldn't say anything.

"I suppose I won't tell…" He scowled, displeased, but Hermione didn't care too much. She just wanted to get into bed and calm her aching skull. She smiled at him sheepishly and walked off to her room, glad for the comfort of the dark.

When she woke up the next morning and went through the daily motions that had become her life – studying, reading, eating, sleeping, nothing – she decided that it needed something more. She just didn't know what. She was tired of the dullness of her days, she never had fun; it was all about school for her and she was ready to change that.

To top off her pretty awful day, Ron and Harry weren't talking to her and Molly _had_ found out about the night before somehow, despite Sirius promising he wouldn't tell. She hadn't been too happy about it, and had spent half the day lecturing Hermione on the rules of being a "good young lady." It had thoroughly annoyed the intellectual witch.

Another rather nerve-racking part of her day had been spent worrying about school. Hogwarts started in two days and she wasn't sure that she would have any place at the comforting old school if Harry and Ron weren't speaking to her. And she had so wanted this year to be different, _better_. She'd wanted to have a fun seventh year, not a lonely one.

So, in the late afternoon she dressed up for a night out. She decided she would try a new place that she'd seen the other night. She didn't like that she was like this but the pain of Ron's recent break-up with her was better with alcohol, and she was drawn, _again_, to the unexplainable beauty of drinking.

When she got to The Green Tavern, she noticed how different it was compared to the bar she'd visited the night before. This was a much more elegant place – despite its name – and there was an interesting coolness to its atmosphere. The entrance was covered in white and black roses, diamonds gilding the petals. The rooms were small and therefore intimate, and there were hidden nooks in ever corner – no doubt for snogging sessions. The actual bar looked more like a large marble sculpture than a place to serve alcohol and only a few people were there. The countertop had intricate carvings on the sides of snakes that were green and silver. Hermione guessed that this was a strictly Slytherin hangout, but she hadn't been stopped at the door so it didn't really bother her – too much.

She knew she probably looked more like a Slytherin than Gryffindor tonight anyway because she looked very sexy. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, revealing her thin neck. Her dress was black and revealing – she'd borrowed it from Ginny, which explained why it barely covered her. Her shoes were also borrowed, obviously, and they had thin straps that ran all over her ankles.

She listened to the dark music and sat down gracefully at the bar, trying to appear confident, not disheveled and out of place like she actually felt. She ordered a drink and smiled at the sexy bartender who looked her up and down suggestively.

"What the hell are you doing?" Someone whispered into her ear a drink and a half later. She straightened, not really expecting to see Sirius at a place like this, but also not knowing who else would know her here. She was nervous because this person seemed angry.

But when she turned around to ask what the hell this person wanted, she was surprised to see Malfoy standing angrily and sexily next to her. He was wearing a tight black shirt that clung to his muscles, and also tight black pants. The put together look worked for him, but somehow Hermione knew he didn't care much about his appearance, except that hair that he always had annoyingly perfect.

"What do you care, Malfoy?" She asked bitingly, trying to ignore the heat that rose in her stomach when he looked at her body hungrily.

"This is my domain, that's all," he sneered and leaned closer to her, enveloping her in a smell so glorious that she felt herself leaning toward him. He smirked at that.

"And that means I can't come here too?" She argued.

"Oh you can come anywhere you want, Granger," he said, eyes laughing.

"You know that's not what I meant, pig!" Her face was flaming visibly now, she was sure.

"I'm sure many would love to witness that." He gestured to some of the men sitting around and Hermione realized that they were staring blatantly at her. She looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. She suddenly felt so _pure_, so innocent around these people.

"You haven't suddenly become shy, have you?" He chuckled darkly, "Earlier you seemed to be the queen here. But a queen among people who you don't approve of or like? What would a good witch do?"

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," she said indifferently, turning back to her drink. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"But I can't do that," his breath tickled her neck and goose bumps rose on her flesh. "Because if I leave you, someone else will surely follow and I can assure you that I am the closet thing to a gentleman that you're going to find here."

"Well maybe I'm not looking for a gentleman," she commented dryly, squinting her eyes up at him.

"But you _are_ looking?"

"No, of course not!" She scowled, "Now go, please."

"Whatever you say, Granger." He frowned, walking off, and she couldn't help the feeling of disappointment as he left. She didn't like that feeling though, so she ignored it.

After four drinks – her usual amount of liquor – she stumbled out of the tavern. She couldn't decide what to do, but knew she couldn't go back to the burrow where Molly would definitely be waiting. She groaned and someone reached out for her. A muffled scream escaped from her lips as a hand came around her mouth.

"Hello, beautiful," he said huskily as she tried to free herself from his rough hold. He reached down to unzip her dress and she tried to scream, but the sound was not heard. He pulled her back into an alleyway near the tavern and threw her against the wall, not allowing her to see his face. Fear overtook her; so that she was shaking so hard she could barely breathe. No, she thought, not now, not this way.

"Get the fuck off of her." Malfoy's voice rang clear through her muffled head and she immediately relaxed, relieved that she wasn't going to get raped tonight. She was released after a moment and she gasped, stumbling backwards into Malfoy's arms.

Suddenly, her relief was overshadowed by pride and she straightened, not offering him any gratitude. She couldn't have Malfoy knowing that she was weak. She started walking away, trying to calm her nerves.

"What the hell, Granger?" He ran up next to her and kept up with her speedy pace.

"What do you mean?" She asked ignorantly.

"I mean that I just saved your bloody unthankful ass and you didn't even say thanks. You didn't even look at me!" His eyes were blazing.

"Thank you," she muttered with dignity. She felt a little bad about her rude attitude, but if she let Malfoy walk over her, he wouldn't ever stop.

"Sincere," he sniveled sarcastically.

"You can believe whatever you will, but I was being sincere." She kept up her quick pace, hoping to wear him down – although she knew that wasn't possible because he was a damn good quidditch player.

"Like hell you were, bitch." He grabbed a hold of her arm and pulled her back so that she would have to look him in the eyes. She faltered when she did. They were filled with a startling desire and anger. "I've been watching you all night, talking to guys who don't give a damn, showing off your body like a whore. It's not you Hermione, it's too sexy for that and I'll be damned if you don't tell me why. So why, why are you so different tonight?"

The culmination of his words, the alcohol, and her recent breakup with Ron caused her to lash out at him, proving his point about her being so different tonight.

"Well I'm sorry that I want to be a little different, that I want to be sexy for once, instead of good! I'm so sick of being so good that people don't even want to be around me!" She yelled, "I hate that I'm not good enough for my boyfriend or my friends. I hate that no one even sees me as anything other than a bookworm!" She took a deep breath, overcome with her confession. _She hadn't told anyone the way she'd felt and suddenly she told Malfoy, one of her enemies?_ That was not like her either.

The beautiful, blonde-haired wizard stood there dumfounded. And Hermione didn't really know what else to say as they stood there, in the middle of an empty street in the middle of the night.

And as much as she hadn't expected to tell Malfoy about her problems, she definitely didn't expect what he did next.

When his lips crashed into hers, and he pressed her up against the wall, she gasped. She didn't know what to think, but decided she didn't really want to. His hands found her hair, pulling it out of its clips, while his tongue stroked hers seductively. Her heart sped up and goose bumps rose on her skin. It was the most sensuous kiss she'd ever had – of course Ron and Viktor were the only others to compare – and she didn't want it to end.

Nevertheless, he pulled back after a moment and sneered, stumbling back towards the bar. She stood there, aghast at his departure, wondering why she was so disgusting that he felt the need to sneer. But the look in his eyes was what really confused her; it was desperation, a tortured plea. She shook her head, knowing that wasn't Malfoy; she was making it up, he was just drunk. And so was she.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: And the Boy Who Never Thought He'd Lead Her There

"What if I wanted to break, Laugh it all off in your face?

What would you do?

What if I fell to the floor,  
Couldn't take this anymore?  
What would you do?" – _The Kill_

Sunlight filtered through the thick curtains that lined the windows in the expensive hotel he'd been staying in the past few days. He looked at his empty bed, only empty after the whore he'd met last night left. She'd been entertaining, sure, but he wasn't satisfied with that. He hadn't been sexually satisfied – not to mention any other kind of satisfied – for a long time. He wasn't happy, and it thoroughly angered him.

He rubbed his temples and got up gently, trying not to encourage any pain in his already pulsing head or encourage any thought about the beautiful witch he'd kissed the night before. Hermione had always been attractive, but somehow she'd grown over the summer in an entirely positive way and Draco wasn't sure he liked that. After all, he could never have her in any way; she _was_ a mudblood. Draco made a revolting sound in the back of his throat; she'd just felt so good, so right against him.

He went to the bathroom and looked at his disheveled, quite frankly awful appearance, and sighed. He really needed to stop partying. He probably hadn't spent one night alone the entire week. Walking back to the bed, he found a note on the table next to it.

"That's odd," he murmured to himself. The letter was addressed to Pansy Parkinson, not Draco Malfoy. He wondered briefly what kind of scheme she was trying; if she was sending her mail to his suite to force an interaction between the two of him. He grimaced, imaging it.

"_Hello, Pansy, I received this letter and I just wanted to make sure you got it; it looked important."_

"_Thank you so much, Draco, but you can keep it at your place for now. I have something I need to show you."_

"_What's that?"_

"_Come see, I got new pillows the other day; your father said you'd like them because they're made with goose feathers, your favorite. Oh, and I talked to your mother the other day too, and she said that the plans are all set for the wedding the minute we're done with school. I can't wait, darling!" _

His stomach churned at the thought; him and Pansy, married. _What could be more revolting?_ Sure she was probably the prettiest witch he'd ever been with, and her fortune would go well with his, but she was so awful. She was frivolous and petty, and very, very protective. He couldn't imagine living with her the rest of his life and he thought that he would probably go mad, but that never really mattered to his parents. He hated that.

He sighed and threw the letter back down on the table and decided that he would just ignore Pansy for as long as he could. _Out of sight, out of mind, right?_

Pulling his pants over his waist, he pulled his shirt on over his head, and slipped into his shoes, leaving the room. He would come back later, when he was sure the loneliness of his life would no longer depress him.

As he walked down the steps of the slightly too glorious, dark lobby, Draco was stopped by something. A feeling in the air that he wasn't sure he liked, he reached into his pocket for his wand, readying himself for whatever had caused this uneasiness.

"Hello, Draco," someone said angrily from behind him. He turned and rolled his eyes, recognizing the voice. He put his wand back, wishing he would have ignored the feeling and just left. So much for ignoring her, he couldn't believe she was so persistent.

"What the hell do you want, Pansy?" He leaned against the nearest wall, arms crossed over his chest, angry that she would show up now – of all the times to make a scene.

"Who is she?" She asked spitefully, venom in her eyes.

"Who is who?" He asked dumbly, although he knew what the dark witch was getting at.

"The _whore_ you were thrusting into a wall last night!" He pondered that for a moment, not knowing if he should respond honestly or play around with her a little bit. Her feathers _were_ so easily ruffle-able.

"Is the pot calling the kettle black?" He smiled tauntingly; rather annoyed that Pansy would show up here. "Last I heard you and Blaise weren't exactly un-familiar with each other."

"Just tell me who she is, Malfoy," she spat.

"You wouldn't know her," he said, "But you're right, you know?"

"About?"

"Me slamming her into the wall all night." He smirked, delighted by how her pain screwed up her face in a way that ruined its beauty. She shouldn't be beautiful like she was, with long black hair and deep blue eyes, but she was and it usually annoyed the hell out of Draco.

"She'll bore you soon enough, and then…" she smiled wickedly and Draco frowned, "You'll be begging me back into your bed."

Draco scowled and turned to leave.

"You know it's true, Draco," she continued relentlessly, "You know you'll always come back to me. It's how it's supposed to be. You and me… it's how your parents want it…"

Her voice drifted off as he walked out of the building, hailing the nearest cab, hating that he couldn't just apparate to Malfoy Manor. Hating that she was right, that he _would_ have to come back to her in the end… it was protocol for two of the greatest pureblood families.

* * *

"Where have you been, Draco?" Narcissa said coolly from the doorway, her long, white hair tied into a braid that draped over one shoulder and drifted into the black lengths of her robes. She looked – not at all uncharacteristically – evil. Draco shivered from the iciness in her stare. _Welcome home_… he thought bitterly.

"Come here, Son," Lucius commanded from the door of his study. Draco walked casually – despite the fact that his heart was beating nervously – into the familiar room.

"Hello, Father," he sat down smoothly into one of the leather chairs opposite his father's desk. The room hadn't changed much. It was still dark, black and green covering everything with the occasional silver mixed in. It was not a happy place; many had been threatened here, tortured until they complied or killed if they didn't. Draco shuddered.

"How are things?" His father asked indifferently. Draco rolled his eyes, like his father gave a damn. As long as Draco stayed alive and under the rule of Voldemort, nothing else mattered.

"Fine."

"So I heard from our Lord today," he started, staring deeply into Draco's eyes. Pale blue against the most awful silver.

"Did you?" Draco asked, feigning interest because he knew his father would grow suspicious if he didn't care about the Dark Lord's wishes. He didn't.

"Yes, he needs you to do something when you return to school…" he looked at his son, eyeing him in case there was any flicker of doubt in his eyes. Draco snorted.

"Just tell me what I have to do."

"Well," he turned in his chair, procuring something from inside his desk. "You'll need this."

"An invisibility cloak?" Draco asked, intrigued now and slightly enthusiastic; maybe this meant that he could sneak around Hogwarts in the middle of the night without getting caught, give old Dumbledore a hard time.

"Yes, you'll need it to find something … a horcrux." Draco straightened at the word, a slight chill running through his spine. He looked at his father warily; he didn't want to have anything to do with Voldemort's horcruxes. The idea of separating your soul horrified him, and to do it so many times…

"What?" He asked, suddenly very resentful of his family's standing with the darkest wizard of all time. He hated that his bloodline meant that he too had to do whatever the Dark Lord bids.

"You must, Draco. We think that Potter, Weasel, and Granger have already started and you _must_ beat them."

Draco looked into his father's cold, hard eyes. There was no compassion there, no kindness or happiness, no hope for anything remotely good.

* * *

"Draco!" Blaise said, sitting up straight in his chair in surprise. The girl on his lap – one Draco had never seen before – blushed in embarrassment and quickly moved onto the available couch. Draco smiled, shouldn't she know better? Blaise was a true friend and generally a good guy, but he was awful to women of all beauty and status. He treated women like they were nothing, because that's how he felt. Draco never truly understood that, but nevertheless he cared more about his friend than the fate of his friend's newest conquest.

"I didn't know you were coming," he said, standing up and offering Draco a drink. He took it gladly, happy for the relief he often found around the carefree, fun wizard.

"Sorry, I couldn't go back to my flat just yet – or my suite. And of course you know I could never go back to the Manor." Draco shook his head, maybe he was too rich. It had never occurred to him before, but he _did_ seem to have a lot. For example, three different homes. Blaise shook his head and smiled empathetically, his family wasn't exactly paradise either. He was in the same boat Draco was in. He would be married at the end of his schooling and go on to join the Death Eaters, just like Draco would. It was similar for almost all of the dark, pureblood, rich families of the wizarding world.

"It's fine," he commented, leaning over and whispering to his female friend so that Draco couldn't hear. A moment later she left. "Stay as long as you need. Well, until school I suppose." Draco groaned; _school_.

"When is that anyway?" He asked, taking a drink. Blaise shrugged.

"Two days I believe." He smiled apathetically, "That means my old man will be back to give me another talk. Blaise you're coming into the wealth and prosperity of the Zabini name soon, you must straighten up. No girls, no partying, and no drinking!" Blaise did the best impression of his overbearing father that Draco had ever heard. He started laughing and Blaise did too.

* * *

"Fuck," Draco cursed blankly, staring at the school that he'd so hated to attend. He – as most Malfoys – was opposed to any type of boring work, also known as school. Sure the atmosphere was fine and the people weren't too bad, at least the ones in his house, but the boringness almost killed him.

"I know," Blaise agreed dryly. He too, was strongly against dullness and hated school because of it. The last two days they'd spent sleeping and drinking. Partying until they had to go back to school and their "duty," for Blaise, too, was under the control of the Dark Lord.

"Language, boys," Snape said dully from behind the large group of Slytherins entering the massive school. Draco smirked; like Snape would ever actually care about something like that.

"To the dining hall boys," he commented dryly, picking a piece of lint off of his drab, black robes.

When they entered the large eating area and sat down at their tables, Draco noticed a murmur of excitement different from the normal first-day frenzy. He leaned over to Blaise, who was running his hand up a girl's skirt.

"Really, Zabini?" He chuckled, rolling his eyes, "Already?" His friend just shrugged.

"So what's going on?" Draco continued, gesturing to the gasping crowd gathered around the Gryffindor table. Blaise looked up for a moment, pursed his lips, and returned to lavishing the girl beside him. Draco frowned; Blaise had been in a particularly bad mood for the past day and he could only guess that his friend's father hadn't been kind in his visit.

"Mr. Weasley!" Someone shouted from across the room. Draco looked up from his soup to find McGonagall looking horrified towards the red head. Draco craned his neck to try and see.

"I didn't mean to, honest Professor!" Weasel pleaded, face red. Draco vaguely saw someone sneak out behind the commotion, head in her hands, tangled curls falling down her shoulders.

"You mean slapping Miss Granger across the face was an accident?" She was visibly fuming and Draco had to admit it was funny – despite the fact that Weasel had hit a female. He tried to ignore the slight urge he had to give him a taste of his own medicine – but why would he want to do that? It wasn't as if he cared about the bookworm.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: It's the Moment she Knew Nothing Could Ever Really Change

"This empty feeling blame it on me. Do I deserve this? I must deserve this. What is my purpose? I must have purpose. So I stop and breathe." – _This Game_

Hermione felt like screaming, like lifting her fists up to the sky and cursing violently. But of course that was far too dramatic an answer to her current predicament. It's not like Ron actually meant to hit her, he'd just sort of accidently ran his hand into her face when he was reaching – quite violently – for the mashed potatoes. She should've known to stay out of his way during feeding time. She _had_ dated him for a long time; it wasn't the first time he'd shown his primitive nature. Nevertheless, even if it was an accident, he hadn't apologized and that was an awful way for her to start off the school year.

To top it all off, she had a rather nasty bruise on her left cheekbone that was hideous and she wasn't sure would be easily covered up with makeup. Not that she really owned any makeup. She needed to change that for future situations like this one – although hopefully she wouldn't ever get slapped in the face again – but she decided that she could ask Ginny for some if it got much worse.

"Whoa..." The young witch walked in as if on cue, looking horrified towards Hermione's face.

"Hey Ginny," she said glumly, touching her cheek and softly applying pressure. She winced; not such a good idea.

"That's pretty bad; you should get some ice on it." She sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed, playing with the hem of her skirt.

"I'm fine!" Hermione spat.

"_Sorry_." Ginny apologized sarcastically and Hermione immediately felt bad.

"Sorry, I just don't want any help."

"Why?"

"Because I don't," Hermione retorted, tired.

"And this is the comeback that comes from the brightest witch of her time? Where has the world gone?"

"Shut up!" She laughed, throwing a pillow at her friend.

"You missed!" Ginny yelled, grabbing it and throwing it back. Of course it hit her square in the face; she was a very good quidditch player.

"You're on, Potter!" Hermione yelled, playfulness in her eyes. Before she knew it, they were having an all out pillow war, screaming and running around the room. Maybe this year wouldn't be so terrible; she did have Ginny – who was the only one of her friends that didn't hate her after the break-up.

* * *

Later, Hermione went to her first class in high spirits; she was sure that she wasn't going to let this year – or her breakup, or the fact that her face was disfigured by the bruise – get her down. However, the snickers and whispers as she entered the room – obviously directed at her – broke that confidence. She felt the need to crawl in a large dark hole and hide or die. She wasn't sure which would be better.

"Hey, 'Mione," Harry said glumly from beside her. She looked over to see that he was sitting next to her. Maybe this meant that he was willing to ignore the breakup and the new bridge of friendship to talk to her, because he missed her. Honestly, she missed him too, _a lot_. She had found herself – even over the last couple of days – struggling without her friends. She would need to say something to them or ask them for advice, but would realize that she couldn't call on them anymore. It was heartbreaking.

"Hey Harry!" She greeted him brightly, hoping to make him smile. It didn't work.

"Look, I can't stay here or anything because I'm sitting next to Ron," he pointed behind him to where the redhead was sulking, "but I wanted to explain something to you and I wanted to say that I'm sorry… about all this. I wish I didn't have to choose between the two of you, and I honestly don't think I'll have to forever, but Ron is my best mate. We've been through so much together and I can't leave him. I'll always love you, but…" He drifted off, looking down as if he were about to cry, Hermione already was, "I'm so sorry, Mione, but for now we can't really be friends." He got up to leave and Hermione felt a part of her ache, like she wasn't really whole without her two best friends.

"Harry," she whispered, afraid that her voice would break if she said anything at a higher volume. He turned around slowly, eyes down; so that she knew he was listening, but not ready to change his mind. "I suppose I understand…" Her lower lip trembled and she was sure she looked awful, but she had to be strong at least until he understood. "I forgive you, even if you don't think you need to be forgiven." She smiled half-heartedly and he nodded once, turning around.

"And Harry," she added, "I'll always love you too."

She thought, after that, that she could brave out the class – despite the whispers and laughs about her appearance. She thought she could stick it out until she could go to the bathroom and see if she looked presentable. But that proved too hard for her and she left the room half-way through (after she'd started bawling), people snickering on both sides of her.

She ran out in embarrassment, hoping that no one would remember, and kept running. She didn't want to think about the fact that she'd just truly lost her best friend, or the fact that she was so hideous that no one could look at her without laughing. She especially didn't want to think about how alone she was or how a certain blonde-haired wizard had been occupying her thoughts more than he should. She didn't know where she was going and when she finally did run out of breath, she was in a part of the castle that she'd never been before. It was dark and quiet, and she was too exhausted to try and find her way back. So instead she leaned against the wall and fell to the floor. She laid her cheek against the cool stone floor and closed her eyes, wrapping her shaky arms around her knees and curling up into a ball. She remembered her favorite song – a muggle one that was a favorite of her parents. "Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right. It's all right." She mumbled it quietly, using it for comfort.

"What're you doing?" Hermione opened her eyes to see a very amused Draco Malfoy standing above her. She sat up, straightening out her skirt, which she noticed had been revealing, the way she had been positioned. She blushed because she saw that Malfoy noticed it too. He didn't look terribly displeased.

"I could ask you the same question," she retorted, trying to stand up. He offered her his hand, but she pretended she didn't see it. She brushed off her skirt, trying not to look at him. It was just so awkward since that night; it was like he was mocking her. He _did_ turn away, disgusted after he'd kissed her. That didn't exactly scream you're a good kisser. He must've not felt the way she did about it. So, the fact that she was standing here, ugly and vulnerable, and alone with Draco Malfoy was intimidating. She didn't really know what to say so she just stared down at her plain shoes, noticing how they were too simple next to his very nice ones.

"I doubt that since I was on my way to the prefect's bathroom." He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. There was something about the way he was looking at her that she didn't really understand. It was like he wanted something, or wanted to say something, but he couldn't. In that moment, his demeanor had changed from haughty and self-confident, to desperate. Hermione flustered under his gaze, not really comprehending what he wanted.

"Care to join me?" He asked a moment later, waving his hand towards the end of the dark hallway. Hermione looked to where the bathrooms apparently were. She couldn't remember them being there though, and she didn't really want to know what Malfoy was up to. She shook her head once and he rolled his eyes.

"Okay I lied," he admitted. "I'm not really going to the restroom."

"You're not?" She asked, feigning stupidity. "You mean at the end of this long, dark and slightly foreboding hallway, you're not going to a place I'm fairly certain is on the other side of the castle?"

"Wow, that's a rather large dose of sarcasm you just threw at me. Are you in a bad mood?" He was pouting but she could tell that he wasn't upset because of the way his eyes danced in amusement.

Hermione didn't respond; she didn't owe him anything, especially considering she'd already told him her biggest problem when she'd had no intention of doing that. Surely he couldn't expect that they would ever be friends.

"Well," she continued after a moment, "where are you going then, Malfoy?"

"Come see," he said excitedly, eyes lit. It threw Hermione off guard; he was acting very un-Malfoy. Since when did he ever get excited over anything? Since when did he ever experience any emotion but disgust towards anyone? Hermione shook her head at his request and tried not to smile from the look on his face. He was displeased.

"Don't be such a prick; you'll like it, I promise. I'll swear not to call you any names," he added when he saw from her look that he wasn't getting anywhere. She shook her head again and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. He reached for her arm, trying to pull her away from the wall but she wouldn't budge.

"Am I going to have to force you, Granger?" The dangerous look in his eye frightened Hermione and she found herself stepping back into the brick behind her.

"Not, unless you'd like to…" she gulped when he starting approaching her, slowly like a lion, "…to g-get hexed."

"You'd never do that, you're too good for that." He smiled seductively when she mumbled incoherently something about that not being true.

"The Gryffindor princess…" He placed his hands firmly on her hips and she tensed; not knowing what he was about to do. She had to admit though, he felt nice against her. It kind of felt like when they kissed, close and passionate…

"Malfoy!" She squealed as he lifted her up and flung her over his shoulder. A gust of air flew out between her lips as her stomach came in contact with his body, her mouth near his throat. He must've been stronger than she'd imagined because he treated her as if she weighed nothing at all.

"Calm down, princess, I'm not going to hurt you." He rolled his eyes and Hermione huffed, struggling against his hold.

"You're being absurd." She frowned after a moment of resisting him, and gave up. They continued to walk down the corridor that never seemed to end, and she grew bored eventually and decided she would teach Malfoy a lesson about kidnapping people. She reached in her pocket but didn't feel the cool wooden rod she always had with her. She was about to panic, about to fling herself off of Malfoy and run to look for her wand, but she found a loss of all thought when she saw what Draco had behind an old oak door.

"No," he smiled at her reaction. "I'm being kind."

"Do you even know what that word means?" She asked, staring up at the sky, glittered with stars, pinpoints of light that somehow seemed more beautiful than the rest of the light in the world. She didn't understand what this room was, an observatory? Or was it like the Room of Requirements, specialized for whatever a person needed? Was this what she needed?

He laughed, "Apparently not, if it's not having a positive effect on you."

"What is this?" She asked, slightly mesmerized. She looked around, a fog curled around her feet, hiding them, and she couldn't very well see the ground. There were cricket noises, and the smell of rain. She tried to figure it out in her head, tried to reason it through, but it didn't make sense. There was the occasional shooting star in the sky and the moon was completely full. Hermione looked around to see, walking a bit to get a better view. In the middle of the room was a large tree, beautiful and green, white petals blossoming on its leaves. Hanging in the air, and drifting into the sky were silky, gossamer curtains in different shades of blue. They were blowing slightly in the wind and Hermione found herself pushing them around so she could see better. It was like a maze and she was still befuddled as to what the room actually was.

"I don't honestly know," he answered a moment later. "I found it first year and I've come here ever since. It only happens on the full moon I believe…" He drifted off, as lost in thought as she was.

She continued on, around the endless sea of deep blue, guided by the light of the stars. She gasped when her gaze settled on the most beautiful bed she'd ever seen. It was carved from marble it seemed, flowers running up its posts. There was an intricate design on the headboard, a woman and man in a field. But Hermione couldn't tell what was supposed to be the point of it; they were just sitting there, flowers all around them. Although it was beautiful, it didn't make much sense. She looked up to the stars visible through the thin silk material hanging from the canopy of the bed; it fluttered around the bedposts and swayed in the breeze. Everything was so serene and peaceful, so breathtaking.

Hermione tripped on a soft rug beneath her, breaking her trance. She started panicking when she thought about the object before her and the possible intended purpose for it. _Did Malfoy want to sleep with her? Is that why he'd forced her to come with him?_

"Malfoy!" She screeched and he blinked out of his haze, frowning in confusion. His gaze met hers and looked past her to the bed. He smirked a moment before rolling his eyes.

"You think I'm trying to seduce you?" He chuckled. "Sorry, no, you're not going to get that lucky tonight, Granger."

"Then what, Malfoy?" She was utterly confused as to why he was being so weird. He hadn't insulted her once, or been even a little bit disgusted by her presence – as he usually was with her. He was also proud – not that that was very different – it was noticeable in his eyes, how they sparkled when he looked around him. This was his, or at least he thought so, and he loved it. The thought made Hermione's head spin; _Malfoy loved something?_

"I just thought you'd like it!" He commented defensively. Hermione could tell that his normal emotional wall was going back up and she regretted how she'd acted.

"Have you shown anyone else?" She asked softly, sitting down on the bed and stroking the thick material beneath her fingertips. She hoped the answer would be yes, afraid of how she'd feel if Malfoy, her enemy, was showing her something he'd never dare show his friends.

He hesitated before he said anything and answered her with a brief shake of his head, a frown wrinkled his forehead.

"I don't really know why I showed you." He was struggling with something Hermione didn't understand. "I suppose it was because you were there, all sad and awful-looking, friendless for the time being. You just seemed so helpless; I just thought maybe this would make you happy…"

"And since when have you cared about my happiness?" She asked pointedly, hand on her hip. She really didn't know why she was being so rude, but something about this gesture was just too intimate for her.

"I don't," he wrinkled up his nose, his eyes glazing over in anger. "Why would I ever care about a nasty mudblood?" Hermione felt a pang in her heart, for some reason she'd held on to the hope that maybe they could be friends. She should've known that could never be.

She shook her head and turned away from him, an odd feeling rose in her chest as she walked away from the beautiful scene behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – And the Second he Regretted all he'd Ever Done

"There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses.  
It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses  
at the shade of the sheets and before all the stains  
and a few more of your least favorite things."

_Build God, Then We'll Talk _

Draco cursed when she walked away, pain visible in her features. He didn't know why he did it, he'd told himself that he wouldn't call her anything like that tonight, that he wouldn't make her feel any worse than she already did.

He didn't really know why he'd wanted her to feel better in the first place; it wasn't like he was known for being kind. But something about the way she had looked, curled up in a ball, face displaying sadness even in her dreams, he'd just found it hard not to relate with that kind of torture. So he decided he would show her his favorite place in the entire world. The one place that he could come and be alone and see what no one else had – or at least not to his knowledge. There was something very gratifying in having a secret that you wouldn't ever tell; because there was no need to – at least until you found a girl who needed it. Or at least, he thought she did.

Hermione was something of a mystery to him. She was kind and quiet and a bookworm of course, but ever since he'd seen her at the Tavern and kissed her outside of it, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was a mystery in many ways – despite what others may have thought – and now that she was alone, without her little sidekicks, she was more relatable to him. It made sense to forget the fact that she was a muggleborn and he was a pureblood. It made sense to just be her friend.

He shook his head, _what was he thinking?_ Of course that was ridiculous; they could never be friends. He didn't even spend time with girls that he wasn't shagging, and he would never shag Hermione, _ever_.

"Ughh," he groaned, looking around the room. He fell against the white bed and sunk into a state of relative unconsciousness. His father had sent him an owl earlier in the day reminding him of his "mission." He wished he could just close his eyes and never wake again, at least not to this world… maybe a different one where he could be someone free of obligations and the burden of the Dark Mark. A place where he could be with whomever he wished, pureblood or not. That would be a morning where he could wake up and not dread the rest of the day.

He sighed and tried to think of the man and woman on the headboard of the bed he was lying on. _Were they lovers? Was this their secret meeting place in a world that didn't care for them to be together?_

He seriously needed a drink; since when did he care about the past or the great loves of history?

He closed his eyes and drifted off, hoping things might be different.

When he woke up the next morning he felt a strange sense of uneasiness in the room and goose bumps appeared on his skin. It was dark, not exactly normal for morning, and there was a single candle burning off in the distance. He rubbed his forehead and got out of the bed, trying to figure out what was going on. As he approached the light, there was a heavy breathing sound, like someone was struggling. Draco reached for his wand and pulled it in front of him.

"Lumos," he whispered and gasped when he saw what was in front of him. Lying on the ground, hair tangled around her face, was Hermione. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and there was a deep crease in her brow, proof of how she struggled. He looked up for a moment and something caught his eye. Someone vanishing, a streak of silver hair. Draco felt like he was about to puke, _why would his father do this?_ His mind reeled and he bent over to help her up.

"Hermione, can you hear me?" He cradled her in his arms, his throat thickened at the sight of the beautiful witch, dying in his arms. He didn't know why he was so desperate to save her, why he was so scared of how he'd feel if she died.

"Draco…" She gasped. "It's okay; I'm dying for a good reason…" She drifted off. _What the hell did she mean by that?_

"Hermione?" He shook her gently, attempting to keep her awake. "No…" He whispered when she didn't respond, "Wake up." He cried, kneeling down on the ground. "Please wake up…"

"Draco!" Hands shook him awake. He gasped when he saw Hermione standing over him.

"Hermione!" He cried happily, encircling her waist with his strong arms, allowing no space for her to breathe. It must've been a dream! She was still alive. He looked down at her happily. But her face was confused and frightened. Something wasn't right. Her surprised expression caused him to blink and think about the situation at hand. He was hugging Hermione Granger excitedly, like a long lost friend. But they weren't friends.

"Sorry." He looked down, avoiding her inquisitive gaze.

"What was that?" She asked pointedly. He avoided her question.

"Why are you here?" He asked coldly, returning to his normal demeanor. It was really so much easier that way.

"Everyone's been looking for you for two days. You were reported missing last Thursday! After they said you were gone, I thought you might be here. I decided to come look. Have you been here the whole time?" She explained.

He nodded his head slowly, trying to understand what had happened, "I suppose so. I must've been asleep."

"Asleep?" She asked incredulously, "For almost three days?"

"Yeah, don't you ever do that?" He leaned in close to her, noses almost touching. "You know after a long night of partying… drinking maybe?" He was taunting her and he didn't really know why, but he didn't want her to leave. And that honestly scared the shite out of him. It's not like he could ever pursue her, not like they could ever be together. He was so attracted to her though… it made things infinitely more complicated.

She tensed when his breath touched her face and he smirked a bit.

"Draco," she said solemnly, pulling away from his face, "you're acting very weird."

He didn't say anything, but rather stared at her, remembering the way she'd looked in his dream. Dying, vulnerable, and weak.

"Look, you should get back to your house before anyone really starts to worry. This place isn't even the room it was before," she said, looking around at the bare, closet-like room. No stars, no beauty. He didn't really know why it went away, why it only appeared on the full moon.

He nodded curtly and followed her out of the room, watching the way her ass moved underneath her skirt. He sighed; it was going to be a long year.

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall said sharply, hitting the desk with her wand for emphasis. "If you're not going to pay attention in my class, then please leave."

"Sorry, Professor," he apologized, looking over to where Hermione was looking at him seriously. Everyone around him was snickering, including Blaise. Draco smirked. "Your class is just so interesting that I was in a trance." McGonagall raised an eyebrow and turned back to the front of her class.

"As I was saying," she continued, "I will assign groups of three for the project and you will work together equally for the entire year on this project. I will assign you all the task of becoming an Animagus, but I would doubt if more than two of you can do it. The team who has at least one Animagus will receive full credit for this assignment. The others must be able to transfigure extremely well and research all about transfiguration and Animagi. This will be an extremely hard assignment, and it will take an extremely incredible witch or wizard. Very few can become Animagi." She smiled knowingly and Draco groaned; great an impossible assignment that would probably take all year.

"Potter, Thomas, Zabini," she started calling off names and Draco snickered; his friend would love that grouping.

"Weasley, Finnegan, Nott," She looked down to her previously made list, "Brown, Crabbe, Patil,"

"Granger, Longbottom, Malfoy," Draco looked up at his name and over to Hermione who was frowning and Neville who looked terrified. _Oh, great…_

"Well," Draco said after all the groups had gathered together, "let's get started." Neville and Hermione had of course already started talking and Draco was trying to get their attention.

After a few moments, Hermione turned to him, the inquisitive crease between her eyebrows that he'd grown almost used to was there. He smiled.

"Yes?" He asked. He wanted to reach over and smooth the line with his fingertips, ease her frustration. But of course he would never.

"What's your patronus?"

"Uh," he thought about it for a moment, "I don't know." He felt embarrassed, probably for the first time in his life, and he felt inferior to them. They had much more fighting experience than he and he suddenly wished that wasn't the case. He wished he could fight with them, for something more than fear. They had a reason to fight, for their friends, for love. But he, and the rest of the Wizarding World like him, were fighting out of fear and self-sustainment. They didn't want the Dark Lord to come to their house in the middle of the night, and take their life – the only thing worthwhile to the dark wizards he'd grown up around. But Hermione wasn't fighting because she had to, but rather because she wanted to; it was the right thing to do.

"Oh," she said, taken aback, "okay, well we'll have to find that out."

"Why does that matter anyway? I thought we were talking about Animagi." He leaned back in his chair, not liking how ignorant he sounded.

"Well most people's Animagus is the same as their patronus," she explained, reaching to dig a book out of her bag. "And whoever has the strongest patronus is probably more likely to become an Animagus." She pointed to a picture in the book and looked over to where Potter and Zabini were arguing. Hermione sighed. "That would immediately point to Harry, so we need to make sure that at least one of us can do it too." There was a glint in her eyes and she smiled at him. Draco had no idea she was competitive. He half-smiled and leaned towards her across the table.

"Then teach me," he whispered seductively. Neville's eyebrows went up and Draco smirked. Hermione cleared her throat and backed away.

"No problem." She shrugged. She threw the book in her bag as the class dismissed. He found Blaise who was frowning at Harry and Dean.

"You alright, man?" He asked, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Not even a little." Blaise grimaced. Draco was okay however, because this assignment would teach him what his father hadn't wanted him to know; how to defend himself magically.

"Draco!" Pansy waved him over from where she was sitting on one of the lavish, green couches that sat in the Slytherin common room. He looked at her from across the room, debating whether or not to join her. Blaise chuckled beside him. She really was probably his least favorite person in the world.

"Wifey calls," Blaise said so only Draco could hear. Draco grimaced, deciding to ignore the witch.

"Draco," she said a few minutes later, when he was up in his room, taking off his shoes. He jumped when he heard her voice. She wasn't supposed to be up here, but that never really stopped her before.

"What do you want, Pansy?" He said her name like it was poison on his tongue, she noticed.

"I haven't talked to you in a week," she stated. He stared up at her, knowing where she was going, but not wanting to give into her little game. She was so annoying sometimes.

"That's too long," she smiled sexily, approaching him like a cat would; hands sprawled on his quilt. He felt slightly nauseated. He looked at her for a moment, trying to feel something for her, trying to understand why he had once been so taken with her.

"You've lost all the appeal you once had for me," he said, taking her tie between his fingers, feeling the silk. He dropped it and turned away. "Please go."

"You know you're going to have to find it again," she commented dully, all emotion gone from her features. "Your dad won't be pleased if we don't produce a male heir within the first year." She smiled, as if she'd actually won and walked out.

Draco groaned, throwing a pillow against the door after her.

"Alright, mate?" Blaise walked in at the wrong moment, ducking to avoid the flying pillow. Draco shook his head and fell back on his bed, an arm thrown over his face.

"I'll take that as a no," he chuckled, reaching into the trunk near the bottom of his bed. "Here take this."

Draco caught the bottle in his hands, smiling. He brought it to his lips and drank deeply.

"Don't hurt yourself," Blaise teased, tossing his cloak on the floor. Blaise was never the neatest, unlike Draco who was painstakingly perfect – brought on by the harsh rule of his parents. He hadn't ever been able to have a normal childhood; he'd never known what a messy room was, or what loving parents were.

"Don't worry." Draco smiled slyly, downing another large gulp.

"So you hear about the ball?" Blaise asked coolly, leaning back into a chair and kicking his shoes off. Draco shook his head slowly.

"It's a masque apparently, in a month or two, I can't remember."

"Interesting…" Draco mused, wondering how he could get out of going with Pansy. There was really only one person he wanted to go with, and he had no idea why her face immediately popped into his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: When She Looks in His Eyes, She No Longer Sees the Dark**

"The children don't grow up our bodies get  
bigger, but our hearts get torn up. We're just a million little  
gods causing rain storms turning every good thing to rust."

_Wake Up_

"Fuck!" Hermione cursed in the middle of the dimly lit, empty library. She slammed another book shut and looked at her watch, it was three in the morning and she'd been at it for five hours now. Her curiosity always got the better of her in situations like these. She'd been researching about Draco's mystery room for a week now and had come up with nothing. It was probably the most stressful thing she'd ever experienced. She just wanted to know, to find out who they were and why they created the room – or if they even created it at all! It was just so frustrating. She sighed, exhausted and annoyed.  
It was almost Christmas break – _already_ – and she had spent most of the time she should have been studying, looking for an answer to her question. Ginny was growing agitated with her, for whatever reason, so Hermione didn't really have anyone to talk to and Harry was still avoiding her.

She grabbed her bag off of the table and threw it over her shoulder, groaning at the weight of the books. Would she ever be anything but a loser who always carried multiple novels and textbooks in her bag at one time?

"Miss Granger!" She turned at her name, frowning when she saw Professor Snape looking angrily down at her. "Come with me." He said monotonously, although she could tell she was going to be in a lot of trouble. Her heartbeat quickened as she thought of her punishment. She _was_ out past curfew, not exactly an okay thing, and she knew Dumbledore wouldn't give her a break. He would probably want to make an excuse out of her. She could hear it now, "_If Hermione Granger can get expulsion, so can you!"_ She almost laughed at the irony of the situation; she would get in trouble for reading while someone like Malfoy was probably drinking or shagging some poor girl senseless. Merlin, life was unfair.

But as Snape led her into the headmaster's office she decided maybe life wasn't as unfair as she'd thought. For, as she was walking into the room, Snape in tow, she saw a certain blonde-haired, smug wizard sitting comfortably in front of the Headmaster's desk. She wondered briefly if she could see into the future, because she saw Professor McGonagall set three bottles of fire whiskey in front of Dumbledore. She decided it was just a coincidence.

"This one was out after hours, Albus." Snape said seriously from behind her, pushing Hermione in front of the old man.

The Headmaster looked at them both and sighed deeply. He placed his fingertips at the bridge of his nose and took off his glasses. Hermione didn't really understand why it was such a big deal; it wasn't like they'd killed anybody.

"Mr. Malfoy," he nodded toward the smirking wizard, "Miss Granger," He sighed again. She sat down and dropped her bag on the floor, noticing how Malfoy chuckled. She rolled her eyes; the need to stick her tongue out at him was a little too strong. She wasn't five after all and she'd taken the brunt of Malfoy's jokes and prejudices for a long time now.

"You will both be punished." Dumbledore continued. "Although I don't know what the best punishment should be. What do you think, Severus, Minerva?" He looked up to where his staff was standing. Hermione prayed that it wouldn't be anything unreasonable and she could see Draco tense from the corner of her eye. She wondered what he could have to lose. His father would just pay his way back into the school if he did happen to get expelled – which he wouldn't.

"There's the ball," Snape offered, "I'm sure they would both hate missing it, especially since it's their last year here." He smiled evilly. Hermione frowned; it would be awful to miss the last ball of their young lives.

"Severus, it's going to be a masque, it's not like they couldn't just sneak in." Minerva remarked.

"That's why we need to make them work that night." he smirked. "They should help in the kitchens. Give one of the old house elves a break." Hermione inwardly groaned. She did _not_ want to work all night in the kitchens with Malfoy. She looked over to him and saw he was frowning too.

"That sounds reasonable enough…"Dumbledore commented, smiling a bit. "Alright it's settled, you will both report to the kitchens at five thirty this Friday night." He clapped his hands together and dismissed them with a wave of his arm.

"Studying again, Granger?" Draco said as they left the office. She frowned at him.

"Better than drinking my arse off," she retorted, "which you obviously did." She added on smelling his breath. She pulled away; she didn't understand the wild fire in his eyes and wasn't sure she wanted to. He grabbed her arm.

"If memory serves," he breathed, his lips almost touching her ear, "you've done that quite a few times as well."

"Your point?" She asked, wrenching herself out of his grasp. She stumbled back when she did, hitting her head against the wall. "Ow…" He immediately knelt down beside her and offered her his hand. She kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to see his face because she knew she wouldn't be able to control the sudden want she had for him. His proximity…the way his breath tickled her face…the heat of his hand upon her arm…

"Hermione?" He touched her cheek with the fingers of his free hand, raising goose bumps on her skin. She could practically hear him smirk at her reaction to his touch. He chuckled when she shivered. "Cold, Granger?"

"Shut up," she groaned, standing up without his help.

"Seriously though," he followed her as she walked away from him, "what were you studying that was just so intriguing that you felt you needed to stay up so late?"

"Like you care!" She retorted, trying her best to out-walk him.

"Oh, but I do." He smiled, easily keeping up with her pace. She tripped over her own feet and he caught her. She was really starting to hate his gracefulness.

"If you must know, I was researching your mystery room." She turned around, noticing that he had stopped. "What's wrong?" She had momentarily forgotten that she wanted him to leave her alone.

He ran over to her excitedly, "What did you find out?" She frowned for a minute, trying to deduce whether or not he was being sincere or making fun of her. She decided it was the former and sighed.

"Nothing," she said sullenly, "after hours, nothing…" Her eyebrows creased and she started pacing, thinking. "I wonder if we should look in the restricted section. I can't imagine why it would be there, but it's better than not looking at all. Or maybe I could ask one of the professors… Dumbledore even…"

"Okay," Draco said after a moment of her mumbling, "I'll help!"

"What?" She turned around quickly, "No!"

"And why not?" He asked, offended. She started pacing again, hand on her chin. She definitely did not want Malfoy's help in this. Surely that would only lead to her ruin, both mentally and – although she hated to admit it – physically. Because, as she was spending more time near him, she noticed how attractive he was, how well-endowed he was. She found herself thinking of him more, and wanting to find him whenever she walked into a place where he might be. She almost groaned when he grasped her hips with his hands and forced her to stop and look at him.

"It's my room," he demanded, "you _will_ let me help you."

"It's not yours." She countered. He hadn't yet moved his hands from her and she was finding it hard to breathe. That with the added fact that he was staring at her heatedly did not set her at ease.

"It's more mine than yours." He said defensively and she had to admit he was right. She had no right to call it her own, to study it; it was just her curiosity that got the better of her. She realized that, to Draco, it probably meant a lot to claim it as his and it wasn't fair for her to take that away.

"You're right," she admitted sullenly, "you can help me." His eyes lighted; clearly he hadn't expected such an easy defeat.

"When should we start?"

"Okay, for starters, we're not actually doing anything together." She winced when his hands tightened on her waist. She wondered why that angered him. "And also, we can't be friends."

"Who said I wanted to be your friend?" He raised his left eyebrow and she shuttered. The criticizing cadence in his voice worried her. She'd almost wanted him to argue with her, to want her as a friend…or something more.

"Fine," she said, swiveling her hips from his hands, he frowned. "Meet me tomorrow in the library." She started to walk away before he chuckled.

"What?"

"You think I want to be seen in public with you?" He smiled evilly. She rolled her eyes.

"Contrary to what you may think, Malfoy," she frowned, "I don't want people to know I tolerate your awful existence either. We'll meet after hours, say midnight?"

"Didn't you just get in trouble for that?"

"Like I care." She shrugged and he smiled approvingly.

"Alright, tomorrow at midnight." He winked and walked off the opposite way, leaving her standing a bit confused in the dim light of the hallway. How had she and Draco even come to this point? Maybe it was the kiss that night two months ago. Maybe they'd both needed something and they could only find a friend in the other. Although she wasn't sure she could call what she and Draco had as friendship.

The next morning, she awoke tired and groggy. Her dream had been scary to say the least. It was about Voldemort, but all his Death Eaters had been there, including Draco and his father. And Draco had just stood there, while she was crucio-ed to death.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. She needed a shower or something to get rid of the awful feeling.

"Hermione!" Ginny ran up to the half-asleep witch crying.

"What's wrong, Ginny?"

"Harry's planning on using the holiday vacation to search for Horcruxes and he won't let me come!"

"Shh, Ginny!" Hermione looked around at the other sleeping girls. "Try to not yell that so loud."

"Mione, it's not fair!" She cried.

"Wait, he and Ron?" Hermione asked suddenly very angry that they wouldn't ask her to come, even if they were in a fight.

"Yes, of course! I even asked if they were going to take you and they said no." Ginny fell on Hermione's bed and sobbed into the pillows. Hermione clenched her fists by her sides.

"They really think they can go without me?!" Hermione screeched, waking the other girls she no longer cared about. "They may be strong wizards, but I'm the brightest witch of my age! They can't do it without me!"

Ginny mumbled something through the pillows but Hermione couldn't understand it.

"Well I'll just talk to them, and straighten this out." Hermione smiled, everything would be fine.

"No, Hermione," Harry whispered after she begged for them to take her, "I can't take you. It would kill Ron, and frankly I've never felt very comfortable about you coming with us. I always fear for you, and honestly, now I have an excuse to leave you behind. I'm sorry." He walked away from her, leaving her alone and disappointed in the dark.

She frowned and made her way to the library to meet with Draco.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: And When He Looks at Her, He Sees a Possibility**

"My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me. So won't you kill me, so I die happy?"

_Hands Down_

Draco walked into the old, dusty library ten minutes after midnight to find Hermione bent over a book studiously reading it. He smirked, her hair was a mess and her eyebrows were furrowed over her eyes in her concentration. Her cheeks were pink from frustration, and she was wearing a rather low-cut muggle top. She looked delicious and it was setting Draco off. He didn't know how he could endure a whole night of her looking like that.

"Hello Granger," he said dryly, noticing that her bruise had almost completely disappeared, "I see you've already started looking."

"I see you're late." She countered and he smiled, she was right. "But anyway it was kind of a last ditch effort. I've found nothing in this entire library."

"Then what are we doing here?" He really didn't want to waste his time in the library if he didn't have to.

"We need to look in the restricted section." She smiled, excitement in her eyes.

"Why would the information we are looking for be restricted?" He asked, following her to the back of the room, where the gates blocking them stood in their way.

"I honestly have no idea. It must be something Hogwarts doesn't want us to find out though." She raised her wand and muttered something under her breath. The lock opened quietly.

"Well done, Granger." Draco said approvingly. He only knew one unlocking spell; alohamora. But that was clearly not what she used since that spell would've caused a sound.

"Thank you." She did a little mock curtsey and Draco laughed, following her into the restricted section. It was really dark, not that Draco wasn't used to that, and she seemed to know her way around very well.

"You spend a lot of time in the restricted section?" He asked as she pulled out a book and shoved it in his hands.

"Define a lot." She pulled out another one, the title confusing him. _The Founders and Their Findings. _

"I'll take that as a yes." He chuckled and hauled three more books in his arms before she led them to a small table in the corner.

"I just like to know things that other people know, especially people older than me." She shrugged.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I suppose it's because I want to know what they're talking about and understand it fully." She smiled. "I think that conversing with adults can be much more gratifying than with other children."

"Interesting…" Draco didn't really understand that, but there wasn't a lot he understood about Hermione.

"So what first?" He looked at the pile of books and she handed one to him and took the largest for herself. He rolled his eyes and opened it. He was sure he would find something, since it was entitled _The Secret Rooms of Hogwarts_. But as he read the book cover to cover – there were many pictures so it didn't take that long – he was becoming more and more frustrated. Meanwhile, Hermione was reading her book about the founders delightedly, gasping every once and a while where she found something interesting. He kept asking her what she was finding, but she would just shake her head and ignore him, turning a page and finding something else.

A few hours later, he became so annoyed with her that he reached out under her nose and pulled the book from her grasp. Her angry expression could make up for his annoyance tenfold. He laughed and before he knew it she lunged over the table to grab it. He was quicker than she was however, and he threw the book to the side, causing her to fall in his lap with a thud. He laughed again and she scowled, trying to get out of his grasp. She wiggled her but against his growing erection and he had a clear view of her pale white cleavage.

He didn't really know what came over him, why he leaned towards her to bruise her in a lip-crushing kiss. He didn't know why his hands found the backs of her thighs or why she moaned into his ear when he sucked the pulse point on her neck.

"Draco…" She breathed. "We can't do this."

"What did you find out in the book?" He asked, taking the lobe of her ear in his mouth.

"What?" She asked, pulling away again. He pulled her back, she felt so good against him and he wasn't planning on letting her go.

"I don't know." He murmured into her skin, "Ignore that."

"Wait," she placed her hand on his chest and pushed herself off of him, "this isn't right." She blinked as if she was clearing her mind. He looked up at her, disappointed although he'd never admit that to anyone. He shrugged and leaned back in his chair staring at her. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing deeply.

"You're right," he smirked, "I wouldn't want to ruin my reputation or anything." She rolled her eyes and walked off, taking the founders book with her.

"Witch," he whispered after her.

"Malfoy, where have you been?" Neville asked nervously, biting on his fingernails.

"Sleeping," Draco frowned, "why?"

"Hermione's furious you're late." Neville whimpered when he heard a crash come from the back of the Room of Requirements. It's where Hermione had requested they get together, early on a Saturday, to work on their transfigurations assignment. Draco looked around Neville, seeing the crazy auburn hair that could only belong to one witch.

"Draco," she shouted upon seeing him, "do you know what time it is?" He looked at her approvingly. She was dressed in muggle clothing, a loose white, low-cut t-shirt that functioned as a dress with an equally long sweater, and tight black leggings. A long silver locket hung between her breasts and she looked damn sexy. Her anger paralleled the soft look well, and Draco found it hard not to stare at her. She huffed when he didn't answer and he chuckled.

"Time for you to calm down I believe." He smirked and she fumed. He could practically feel the air crackling around him with the power of her anger. He didn't really realize she was so strong, so passionate.

"Sorry," he chuckled, raising his hands a bit when he saw her clenching her fists, "sorry, I'll make it up to you."

"How's that?" She asked, still angry. He went over to her and placed his hands on her arms soothingly. He smiled when she stepped back, surprised.

"Don't worry," he winked and laughed when he saw her brows furrowed across her forehead, "I'll think of something." He reached down and slowly unclenched her fists, dragging his fingers across her palms as he did, noticing how she trembled. He didn't really know why he was so interested in her, or why he wanted to be nice to her. But he did and although he would've never thought it possible, he really did _want_ her. It was almost all-consuming. He'd thought of her all last night, after the library incident and he even had another dream about her.

"I'm sure," she whispered unsteadily, "but we should get started."

"Only after you tell me what you found out last night." He breathed, inching towards her face so that their noses were almost touching. He saw the light in her eyes, as excited as he was over the mention of the mystery room. She opened her mouth to say something but looked past his shoulder when Neville cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Right!" She said and pulled away from Draco's grasp. "So I found a fake dementor that we could use to teach Draco how to procure a patronus."

"Wait," Draco stopped her, "I don't need you to teach me." He didn't like the sound of that. He wasn't alright with her, consciously or subconsciously, belittling him because he might not know how to make a patronus charm.

"I didn't mean that." Hermione explained as she pulled the black, human-size statue towards the group of three. "We need practice too, right Neville?" Hermione smiled brightly.

"Yeah of course," Neville stuttered, "we could always use the practice."

"Okay so," Hermione started, taking Draco shoulders and turning him towards the dementor, "I'll show you. Expecto Patronum!" She flicked her wand toward the dementor and a silvery, white otter swam out of her like a part of herself and came towards the standing black mass. The light surrounded it; almost caressing it before it surged forward and the dementor was sent flying backwards. The whole room was cast in the beautiful silver glow and Draco was in awe for the power flowing through the room.

"Okay," she said as the light dimmed and was sucked back into her wand, "it's not hard, trust me, you'll do great" She said it with such conviction that it was hard not to believe her.

"Expecto Patronum!" Draco shouted, trying to remember what he'd been taught in his defense class; think of something incandescently happy.

What happened next surprised him, he watched, almost as if he were far away, as his own power took over. A brilliant white stallion danced in front of him and exploded into the dementor. Draco smiled, proud of the way he'd conquered it his first try, proud of the way Hermione was looking at him admiringly. Neville stood wide-eyed beside him and pointed toward the fallen dementor.

"It took me two years to be able to do that."

"It took me awhile, too." Hermione smiled.

"Five tries is hardly awhile," Neville frowned and crossed his hands over his chest. Hermione shrugged.

"It even took Harry a few times to get it." She smiled and Draco did too.

"Well I am a Malfoy." He held his arms out to the side and she smacked his chest playfully, rolling her eyes.

"Well it's a bit harder to transfigure," she laughed, "and even harder to become a full-fledged animagus."

"If anyone can do it, I can." He continued, laughing when she glared at him.

"It's going to be a long and arduous task. We should get started." She said pulling them both towards the couches that had suddenly appeared in the corner, coffee and hot chocolate on the table in between them. Draco immediately sat down next to Hermione on the fluffy loveseat and didn't notice a problem until she looked at him incredulously. He shrugged and drank deeply from the mug in front of him. Neville coughed and looked away when Draco glared at him. He was really getting tired of the nervous Gryffindor.

"Let's get started…"

Eight hours later, they'd researched every transfiguration spell Hermione had ever learned, plus read up on all the registered animagi in the Wizarding World. Draco was drained and hungry, but every protest he'd made about starving, had her rolling her eyes telling him he'd survive.

"Hermione," he grabbed onto her arm, feigning seriousness, "I need food. It's been eight hours, Hermione, eight. That's a little on the ridiculous side, even for you. Please let me eat."

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw her book on the ground, waking the sleeping Neville in the process.

"Fine," she said, waving her wand over the table. Draco smiled.

"Much better." He approved, digging into the food before him. Hermione made a disgusting sound in the back of her throat.

"What?" Draco asked, "You can't expect me to resist. I _am_ a man, whose been kept from food for eight hours. It's almost as bad as those sexy muggle clothes you-" He stopped before he finished, his butter beer halfway to his mouth.

"What?" Hermione asked, blushing.

"Nothing," Draco murmured. She modestly pulled up her top and cleared her throat, scooting away from him. She pulled her hair back and tied it so that it was low on her neck. Draco's gaze followed the long silver strand leading to the intricate heart resting on her ribcage. It had a hexagon shape in the middle, diamonds covering it, with a large circle in the middle of the hexagon. It looked expensive, even for him.

"Stop staring, Draco." Hermione said after a moment.

"Where'd you get it?" He picked up the locket with his hand, brushing her side as he did so. She shuddered.

"It was my grandmother's. I wear it all the time." She breathed as he caressed the cool metal.

"I've never seen you wear it before."

"It's usually hidden under my sweater." She explained, leaning into him unconsciously.

"Why do you hide it?" He didn't know why he was so curious about it, but something about the beautiful piece of jewelry was just so like Hermione, that Draco had to find out more about it.

"Because it's important to me." She said and Draco looked at her blankly; that didn't make much sense. "My grandmother used it during World War Two to save her husband from annihilation. Before she died, the German soldier gave it back to her because he felt bad. He said that as long as she wore it, her loved ones would be safe. So, I wear it all the time, secretly, because it just feels right that way."

"World War Two?" Draco questioned blankly.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione laughed lightly, "all you need to know is that this necklace saved the man she loved. That's why it's important to me."

"What was her name?"

"Melody, why?" She looked confused; he dropped the locket and held her cheek in his palm.

"Do your parents love each other?" He asked, vulnerably, not caring how weak he sounded.

"Of course, my father adores my mother."

"Oh…" He looked past her, thinking about how far that was from his own parents' relationship.

"Draco," she whispered, bringing his attention back to her, "you have the ability to love, even if your parents don't. I know you don't think so. I know that you've been told something different all your life, but it's the truth."

The mood changed suddenly and he gripped her chin fiercely, almost hurting her.

"Don't think you know me, Granger," He whispered thickly, "don't think you can tell me how I feel."

And with that he walked out, leaving a frowning Hermione behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: It was the Night That Everything Would Change**

Please don't go

now we're stuck in this together  
and I don't think I can run  
from the ties that you have started  
from the sins that we've become

Hermione hadn't spoken to Draco in a week and she worried that their budding friendship might be ruined because she had been too forward. She'd only been trying to help, and she was sure that it was the truth, that Draco had been taught not to love. But he'd reacted so angrily, when only a moment before he'd been looking at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated. When Draco had procured his patronus charm so forcefully, and he'd been so proud, it had been unbearably attractive. When he had held her face in his hands like he cared about her, it had drawn her to him and she realized that she wouldn't be able to ignore the way she felt about him for any longer.

That, unfortunately, was the problem. He was after all Draco Malfoy. He was known for using women, for being utterly Slytherin-esque and for hating muggle borns of all types.

"Hermione," the familiar voice startled her out of her daze and she looked up to see her black-haired best friend.

"Harry!" She yelped, jumping out of her chair by the fire and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Hermione," he said again, pulling her arms away from him, "I'm here to talk to you about something Neville said to me."

"Neville?" She looked up at him, confused; disappointed that he wasn't there to make up with her. That was obvious by the way he'd pushed her away, _again_.

"He said that you and Malfoy are getting very close." Harry sighed, distressed. "He said that you were letting him touch you, and that there was a definite intensity between the two of you. He said that when you two were sitting on the couch together, you might as well have been sitting on each other's laps. He said-"

"Alright I get it." Hermione cut him off, angry. "Why does it matter who I'm friends with, Harry? You're not my friend anymore; you can't tell me who I should talk to." She was crying now but she didn't care.

"Hermione I just want you to be careful. People like Malfoy can't change." He reached out to her when she walked away and it was probably the only time she'd ever resist him. She knew that she was choosing Draco over Harry and how detrimental that would be to their friendship, but she couldn't help her sudden hope in the blonde wizard. She couldn't help the fact that she wanted him, or wanted him to want her.

"What's going on with you?" Ginny sat down beside Hermione before Charms class, the room buzzing with noise and excitement over the upcoming ball, the ball that Hermione would miss.

"What do you mean, Gin?" She closed the book she'd been reading on the history of goblins in magical wars, and smiled at her friend.

"I mean that Harry's been acting really weird lately and when I asked him what's wrong, he said that you and Malfoy _fancied_ each other." She said it like she was disgusted, like it was the worst thing she'd ever heard of before and she couldn't believe it.

"Ginny, look, I know you love Harry and probably believe everything he says, but you have to believe me, I'm fine. I wouldn't let myself get into a situation where I could get hurt." Hermione explained, although Ginny still looked upset.

"'Mione," she whimpered, "you can't like him. It's wrong. He'll hurt you, if he's not already using you."

"I didn't say I felt that way about him, Ginny!" Hermione cried over the noise. "I don't understand why you or Harry think it's any of your business anyway; you haven't talked to me in weeks. You can't ignore me, and then jump to the rescue when you think I'm in trouble."

"I haven't been ignoring you, 'Mione, it's hard for Harry and me. We both love you and Ron so much, but when Ron asked us not to talk to you, because he couldn't bear knowing we were still friends with someone who hurt him so badly, what were we supposed to do?"

"Ginny, when will you understand, I didn't mean to hurt Ron!" Hermione shouted, she was growing tired of all three of them thinking that she'd meant to reveal Ron's greatest secret to a room full of people at Bill and Fleur's engagement party. She had been talking to Lavender, of all people, and when Lavender said that Ron had shagged her fifth year, it had been too much. Lavender had been bragging about her being Ron's first and Hermione hadn't been able to stand it any longer. That's when she'd shouted that Ron had actually lost his virginity to Fleur on the night Bill broke up with her because he was confused about his lycanthropy. The whole room, of course, had gone completely silent and Ron had looked at her as if she was the ugliest person in the world.

"Ginny, it was a mistake, I was trying to shut Lavender up and it ended badly. I'm sorry and Ron knows that, but until you and Harry are willing to be my friend despite the fact that I'm human and I make mistakes, I can't follow your unnecessary advice."

The beautiful witch frowned and walked off. Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples soothingly. Why was everyone making a huge deal out of nothing?

"Hermione," Ginny whispered from the doorway of the girls' dormitories, witches in fancy dresses running all around. Hermione looked up from her book and smiled. Ginny looked breathtaking in her silk, red dress. Hermione glanced over at her own dress, hanging up on her bedpost longingly. It was pinkish gold, and completely revealing, but it had been slightly empowering when she'd put it on. But now that didn't matter since she wouldn't be going. Instead she'd be spending the night with Draco, who had been ignoring her. _Great…_

"I know we're not really talking right now, but I sort of need your help."

"What's wrong?" Hermione said warmly, patting the end of her bed. Ginny sat down.

"I want tonight to be perfect; I want it to be perfect for Harry too. I…" She trailed off, "I want something from him, 'Mione." Hermione smiled knowingly.

"If you think Harry can resist touching you tonight, you're wrong." Ginny giggled, a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

"It's not that, I… I want him to…propose." She winced when Hermione's mouth fell open.

"Ginny, you're only just sixteen! You're too young, Harry's too young." Hermione frowned.

"But I've loved him for so long, most of my life, you know that. And he loves me, too. We've been together for a year and a half now, and I know we'll be together after… everything…"

"I think I know what this is really about, Gin." Hermione said solemnly, taking her friend's hand. "I think you're worried Harry will die, I think you're scared you won't see him after Christmas – what with him going on another hunt."

Ginny nodded after a moment, silent tears touching her face.

"Ginny, he's not going to die."

"But what if he does?" She cried. "I can't live the rest of my life knowing he may not have wanted me to be his wife. I couldn't bear that kind of pain. You know I've always wanted to be a wife, and a mother. It's what I'm meant to do. I just couldn't bear knowing that the love of my life may not have wanted me like that."

"Ginny, I assure you he does." When Ginny shook her head, Hermione continued. "I do, Harry is a very serious person and he's very serious about you. He looks at you as if you're the world, and I truly believe that's how he feels. But I also don't think he'll propose to you until after he kills Voldemort. Harry wouldn't promise something like that if he wasn't absolutely positive he could fulfill it. You have to understand, any girl would be lucky to have Harry; he's committed. He just loves you too much to even risk breaking your heart."

"It's so hard, 'Mione." Ginny cried. "I fear for him everyday of my life. I don't know what I'd do without him. If he dies, I know I'll be as good as dead too."

"He won't die, I'm sure."

"How?"

"I don't know, but I am."

When Hermione arrived in the kitchens at exactly five thirty, she was surprised to see Draco in a suit, holding something out to her, elves running hurrying around them.

"What's that?" She asked, taking the black lace in her hands apprehensively. It felt nice, expensive and she had no idea why Draco was giving it to her.

"I may have… talked to Snape," he said, choosing his words wisely and Hermione briefly wondered how much money was involved.

"And you got us out of working tonight?" She held up the dress and gasped. It was gorgeous. Spaghetti straps dove into a deep v at the top, triangle shapes cut out on the torso. The skirt was composed of the most beautiful black lace she'd ever seen and a long slit rose up the left side. It was even more revealing than her previous dress, but Hermione loved it.

"Not exactly," he smiled, holding out her matching lace mask, "I sort of acquired us a better job."

"And that would be what?" Hermione said warily, appraising his suit approvingly. He looked devilishly handsome, but that didn't take away the worried feeling she had over what she would have to do.

"Well…" he drifted off smiling amusedly, "we're sort of serving pumpkin juice and butter beer."

"So we're bartending?" Hermione groaned, that was almost worse than working in the old kitchens. She _would_ get to wear a gorgeous dress, however…

"Yes, without alcohol." He laughed when she sighed. "Now go change!" He took her by the shoulders and turned her around towards a bathroom connected to the kitchens. "And make sure to hide that god-awful hair of yours, we wouldn't want anyone recognizing you." She scowled at him as he pushed her into the small room.

She looked into the mirror twenty minutes later, surprise on her face. She'd smoothed her hair – which took fifteen minutes by itself – with a spell she'd used from the Yule Ball, retaining the curls but not the frizz. She'd whisked it into a low, loose chignon, leaving curls free to frame her face. Her makeup was light; lip-gloss and a bit of smoky eyeliner. And her dress was the highlight of the look for sure; she looked stunning, if not somewhat promiscuous, her locket swinging low on her chest.

"Bloody hell, Granger," Draco's eyes darkened when he saw her, "you look beautiful."

"No doubt your doing." She rolled her eyes. "How much did you spend on this?"

"A little," he smiled evilly, "maybe you'll just have to repay me."

"And how should I do that?" She placed her hand on her hip, causing the front of her dress the fall open, revealing the skin beneath her dress.

"I think you'll find a way." He stared at her legs and she smiled walking in front of him.

"Keep it in your pants, Malfoy."

"I will…" He reached up to place the mask over her eyes, his fingers lingered over her skin. "That is, unless you beg me the opposite by the end of the night." She shivered, imagining it.

"Hermione?" His skin on hers…

"_Hermione?_" His lips on her body…

"What the fuck, Hermione?" She blinked, blushing. She was glad he couldn't read her mind.

"What?" She asked.

"Didn't you hear me?" He seemed irritated, Hermione shook her head. "I said that we needed to get to the er… bar."

"Oh," she followed him into the main hall, mesmerized. It was beautiful. Snow fell from the ceiling-less sky and stopped before reaching the students, turning into lights that dangled above their heads. The ground was carpeted in a thin layer of white fluff, and silver gilded every surface. The color in the room came from the girls' dresses and the warm candles on every surface and Hermione couldn't believe the beauty Dumbledore had created.

"It's beautiful…" Hermione breathed after a moment. Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Not really."

"Why don't you think so?" She asked curiously; surely even Draco couldn't have known this level of beauty before.

"Hermione, sometimes beauty can be overshadowed." He looked at her, something behind his eyes that made Hermione's heart ache.

"I don't understand, Draco." She reached up to him, but he turned away.

"It doesn't matter." He walked up to a long, black countertop and slid across it, arriving on the other side. Hermione looked down at her dress, chewing on her lip.

"Is there any other way I can get across it?" She asked.

"What, you don't want to let everyone see your knickers?" He smirked at her expression, but after a moment she regained herself, smiling sexily.

"Who said I was wearing knickers?" She could've sworn by the look in his eyes that he was surprised and impressed by her comeback.

"Here," he said, walking to the end of the bar. "Come this way." He opened the top of the counter where there was a place to enter and she smiled graciously.

"Thank you." She smiled, looking out at the sea of masks before her. There was an excitement in the air, no doubt from the thrill of being unknown. There was something unbelievably freeing in wearing a mask, knowing that it didn't matter what you did and Hermione was sure that was why the students of Hogwarts were especially giddy tonight.

"Hello Draco," someone breathed from the other side of the bar, drawing Draco's attention to her dangerously low top, "what're you serving tonight?"

"Nothing for you I'm afraid." He said monotonously, obviously recognizing the black-haired goddess. Her eyes flashed angrily. Hermione gulped, feeling inferior next to the icy witch.

"Who's the whore?" She tilted her head towards Hermione.

"She's beautiful isn't she?" Draco smiled, happy at the pain in the witch's eyes. Hermione had no idea if he was being serious, or if he just wanted to annoy the girl but something about the compliment warmed her either way.

"Not like me."

"You're right; she's much fierier, sexier. She's not cold like you, like…" He sniveled, disgusted, "my mother."

Hermione watched as the witch straightened and hissed through her teeth.

"She doesn't look very fiery, Draco. How can I even know that you know her name? How can I know you're not playing me like you always do?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, angry that they were talking about her right in front of her face, she would change that.

"I am," she said in her best impression of a sultry voice, the girl looked surprised. "It's proof you want?" Hermione smiled evilly, walking up to Draco, making sure to pull her dress to the side to reveal her legs. She sat on the counter, giving Draco and the girl a perfect view of her thigh. Draco raised an eyebrow and she grabbed his face pulling him down to kiss her.

He immediately responded, reaching for her, one hand on her arse, one in her hair. She shoved her tongue into his mouth hungrily, trying to tell herself that this was all for show, and that she wasn't feeling anything for him.

When he swiveled his hips to spread her legs apart, she groaned. She was very thankful for the hidden bar in the corner of the main hall where the lights were dimmed because otherwise she was positive everyone would be staring at them.

He broke the kiss to move his lips to her throat. She gasped when he placed his hand on the inside of her exposed thigh. Hermione turned a bit, knowing that they couldn't continue.

"She's gone," she whispered, pushing him away.

"I don't care." He murmured against her collarbone, taking little licks of the goose bumps rising on her skin.

"I do!" She squealed, pushing herself off of the counter and away from him despite the fact that she didn't really want to.

"Hermione what the hell?" He asked she stared at him blankly, not knowing what his problem was.

"Why do you keep leading me on like this? We kiss, and then we go for weeks without even speaking. I show you the mystery room to make you happy, and you act all weird. I make out with you in the library and you walk away. And here, don't tell me you don't want it! I can see it in your eyes! Even now, you want me I can tell!"

"How was I supposed to know you weren't just horny?" Hermione shouted, grateful for the noise to cover their argument.

"I _am_, Hermione!" He yelled, angry at first before he realized what he'd said. A huge smile spread across Hermione's face and she started cracking up. Side-splitting bursts of laughter escaped her and she looked up to see that Draco was laughing too. He reached down to her and pulled her to his chest, both of them hysterically laughing. Tears were running down her face and she vaguely heard someone ask for a pumpkin juice in the background, but she ignored him.

"It's…" laugh, "true…" laugh, "but that's … not … all."

"Then what, Draco," she said, still smiling but now breathing again. He gave her a goofy smile.

"I want to be your friend." He said honestly, looking very much unlike him.

"I want to be your friend, too, Draco, but I don't know that that should include sex." She looked away from him, hoping he wouldn't be angry. He started laughing again, however.

"You won't be able to resist me forever." He stated smiling. "You'll see, one day, you'll come to me… or for me." He chuckled and she slapped his chest playfully, no longer sure that she'd be able to resist him. And that scared the hell out of her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: And He Knows Now, What's Important**

"So tell me when, you're gonna let me in  
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin  
And if you have a minute why don't we go  
Talk about it somewhere only we know?  
This could be the end of everything  
So why don't we go, somewhere only we know?"

– _Somewhere Only We Know_

The night had ended rather unlike Draco had hoped after he'd seen Hermione in the dress. He'd wanted to take her somewhere and fuck her senseless. He'd wanted to let her know that she wouldn't be spending her nights alone anymore, and that she would become _his_. However, the night had actually ended with a simple thank you and a promise to return the dress later, which Draco had of course denied.

It had frustrated him to no end, seeing as how he usually got whatever he wanted the minute he first wanted it. And he planned to change the way she felt about him, increase her need for him.

"Draco, I haven't seen you around much lately." Blaise said when Draco woke up the next morning. "Who's holding your interests?"

Draco smiled, thinking of the sexy, curly-haired witch. "No one, Zabini, I've just been caught up in school."

"Sure…" His friend smiled knowingly and Draco rolled his eyes, getting out of bed and dressing for breakfast.

As he walked to breakfast with Blaise, he remembered something; Hermione still hadn't told him what she'd found in the library that night. Anger flared through him at the thought. He needed to find her and get her alone.

"Draco?" Blaise said, drawing Draco from his thoughts. "Did you hear me?"

He shook his head, "No, sorry."

"I said that the full moon's tonight and my mum sent me a letter saying Fenrir planned on breaking into Hogwarts and taking Pansy to the Dark Lord."

"What?" Draco said, surprised. "We have to tell somebody! He'll hurt her, and he won't stop at harming others to get to her." Draco immediately thought of Hermione, something rising up in side of him.

"Draco, you know he won't hurt her. The Dark Lord would kill him."

"Why?" Draco asked and his friend rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"I'm really surprised your parents are keeping you in the dark, but he's looking for a mate, and he hasn't found anyone yet. Pansy's easily the prettiest pureblood witch around, so he's requesting that she visit him tonight. I suppose he wants to see if she's bright enough to bear him an intelligent son."

Draco shivered; he may not have particularly liked the witch, but he wouldn't wish that torture on anyone.

"Tonight's the full moon and Fenrir's coming." Draco stated.

"Yeah, but he's planning on maintaining a low profile; the Dark Lord doesn't want to start the war just yet."

"As long as no one gets hurt…" Draco stated, ignoring his friend's look of confusion. _As long as Hermione didn't get hurt…_

"Wait," Draco added as an afterthought, "how is he going to get in?" Blaise shrugged and Draco could tell that his friend really didn't care.

***~*~ **

All day Draco worried over Fenrir's visit. Surely the wolf wouldn't be able to reign in his hunger for death. He never could and that's why Draco needed to get Hermione to a safe place so no harm could come to her. He had no idea why he cared at all about her or why he had the feeling that something bad would come of Fenrir's trip, but the thought of losing Hermione was not at all a pleasant one.

He decided that he would use her curiosity to his advantage and invite her to the mystery room for "research purposes."

***~*~**

"Hermione!" He grabbed her arm, happy that he'd finally found her; she'd been mysteriously absent from her classes and he really needed to make sure she would be with him tonight – away from Fenrir – in his room. The thought of them alone together made him want to groan. He really needed to have her.

"Yes?" She was smiling radiantly and it took Draco off guard. He forgot what he was about to ask and he could've sworn that his stomach dropped to his feet. _Why was she smiling like that? Why was he reacting like he was?_

"Draco," She chuckled, "do you need something?"

"Yes, uh, I was thinking that since tonight's the full moon, we should go to the room and research some more. Maybe we can find some answers." She smiled, eyes twinkling and nodded.

"Sure, Draco." She turned away, walking off seductively. He felt like he needed a cold shower.

***~*~**

"Draco?" He turned his head at the familiar voice and smiled half-heartedly. Usually his response to her would've been negative, but there was fear in her voice. He understood.

"Draco, I'm scared." Pansy came to sit next to him on his bed and he wrapped an arm around her. They'd been through so much together; he couldn't deny that he felt a little bad for her. Meeting the Dark Lord for the first time, like she would tonight, was a completely terrifying thing. Draco remembered the first time he'd met their leader. Thankfully, he'd found favor in Draco and was proud of him for whatever reason. It was almost an odd reaction for such a hard, evil man, but Draco was grateful.

However, if Pansy wasn't so fortunate, she could face a lifetime of struggle. And if she spoke out of terms, or made any move to insult the Dark Lord, she would die.

"It'll be okay." He rubbed her arm soothingly. It was odd for him, to know that the girl he'd once been destined to marry, the girl he'd once been in love with – or at least in lust with – would go to another, more powerful man. It wasn't exactly envy he felt, but maybe more like a breaking of pride. He used to think that he would be Pansy's only until the end of time. It had been empowering. Things had changed so much…

"You've met him, right Draco?" She asked, chin trembling. He nodded. "What's he like?"

Draco smiled bitterly, thankful that she couldn't see his face while her head lay on his shoulder. _He is the worst person who will ever have the honor to ruin your life…_

"He will be civil as long as you do what he wants. He won't hurt you unless you give him reason to." _Unless of course he was in a bad mood._

She nodded, knowing that Draco was warning her to be quiet, obedient, and faithful.

He sighed, wondering what would come of Pansy and what his parents would do once they found out that Draco could no long marry her.

"Draco!" Blaise ran in the room, glancing at Pansy in his arms. The look in his friend's eyes told him to let her go. He did, rising quickly.

"Is he here?" Draco asked, going to the door. He had to get to Hermione. Blaise nodded, going to Pansy and pulling her by the arm, out the door. She was silently sobbing. Draco gave her a small smile before dashing out to the common room, where Fenrir would be waiting in the shadows.

He sensed the wolf, before he saw him. Something about his presence freaked Draco out a little. He could feel the tension in the air and briefly wondered what the Dark Lord was thinking when he sent Fenrir Greyback, the most vicious creature in the magical world to escort his possible queen to him.

"Draco." Fenrir grunted from underneath the stairs. Draco went to him slowly. The Dark Lord had requested that Draco give Pansy over to Fenrir in a gesture of obedience since Pansy was Draco's former lover. Draco nodded once and Fenrir gave him a ghastly smile. His teeth were eerily white and clean.

He glanced behind Draco as Pansy was brought before him. He smirked evilly, and Draco grimaced, taking Pansy's hand and leading her over to the man that would lead her away from safety.

"Goodbye Pansy," Draco smiled, trying to keep it warm so that she would not fear her situation quite as much. He turned to leave but Fenrir's clawed hand on his arm forced him to stay.

"Don't think you can go without showing me proof that you're one of us." He sniveled.

Draco frowned, pulling up his left sleeve and showing the wolf what he wanted. His dark chuckle of approval gave Draco all he needed to get out of there.

He knew that Fenrir couldn't just apparate away, and that meant he would have a place somewhere in Hogwarts that he could leave from. That meant more possibility that he could come across a curious student, probably a Gryffindor who would question where he was going or send for someone to stop him. This student would no doubt be killed on the spot. Draco shuddered, he needed to find Hermione.

He found her ten minutes later, wandering the halls, taking her time to meet him. He noticed how happy she seemed, just like this morning when she'd smiled so brilliantly. He frowned; he also noticed how good she looked. Her white, school shirt was un-tucked and hanging loosely from her curves. The buttons were undone farther down than usual, showing some cleavage. He shivered; this night was going to be fun…

***~*~ **

He opened the door, Hermione in tow and entered the beautiful room. It never failed to amaze him. Something about it was so pure and innocent and mysterious. It was also strangely alluring.

Hermione sat down on the bed – it was the only furniture in the room – and pulled a thick book out of her bag. Draco chuckled and she glared at him.

"Do you want me to tell you or not?" She placed a hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrow threateningly. Alright then, if she wanted a challenge…

"I could always take the book from you." He countered and she rolled her eyes.

"Like you can read." She stated, playfulness in her eyes.

"Witch," he smiled and plopped down on the bed beside her, "I suppose I'll let you win this time." She rolled her eyes again.

"Okay, so I found out that this room has more history than we may have thought." She started. "It dates back to the founding of Hogwarts itself." She pointed to the place where she was reading from, but Draco couldn't look away from the joy in her eyes. He took her hand in his because it felt like the right thing to do and she smiled.

"They called it at the time, La Luna Llena, which translates to full moon in Spanish. It doesn't really say why it's in Spanish and it doesn't really make sense since the creators are from northern England and Scotland, but I figure that it's not that big a deal." She took a breath and Draco could tell she was excited to share what she knew. He was excited too.

"You know of the founders, right?" She asked, he nodded.

"Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff."

"Yes, well, legend has it that when Rowena Ravenclaw died, it was of a broken heart. What we were never taught, was that Rowena Ravenclaw was in love with Salazar Slytherin. They had to keep it a secret because they were worried about what the students and their parents would say, and when she died, it was after their last parting."

"Really?" Draco said, intrigued.

"Yes, they created this room so that they could meet in secret. Every time there was a full moon, they could be together. It's so…" She looked off and Draco wished he could understand the expression in her eyes, "romantic."

"Why was this information in the restricted section? Why doesn't Hogwarts want us to know?"

"I don't know," she shook her head and shrugged, "I can only assume they don't want us to know that Salazar Slytherin was Rowena Ravenclaw's downfall. It's a pathetic excuse, but maybe they don't want one house against the other."

"As if that's not already the case." He said grimly; Slytherin had always hated the rest of the houses and he was sure Gryffindor didn't care for his house either.

"I know, but I can't think of anything better."

"Is that them, then, in the picture?" He pointed to the carving at the head of the bed. She nodded.

"Yes, they're in a meadow that used to be a part of the grounds. It was on the other side of the dark forest and she loved to sit there among the flowers, the lilies. They were her favorite flower, mine too…" She smiled. "It's terribly sad, really. They loved each other so much, but they couldn't share it for fear that it would ruin what they'd both worked so hard to achieve."

Draco nodded solemnly. "But at least they had these moments together."

"Yeah," she smiled warmly and leaned into his side.

"Fenrir Greyback is here tonight." He blurted it out, he didn't mean to and he really wished he hadn't by the fear in her eyes, it had just been so fresh in his mind.

"What?!" She sat up, startled and let go of his hand. He wondered briefly, if he could play it off as a joke, but somehow he knew she wouldn't fall for it. "We've got to tell someone! He could hurt somebody." He knew she was thinking of Potter and he was immediately jealous that she cared so much for the foolish prat. Why her affection for another man bothered him, he had no idea.

"He's not going to," Draco held her back when she tried to leave; "he's here for Pansy."

"What? Poor Pansy, we have to help her." She struggled against him, he was really angry at himself for mentioning it.

"Trust me, Hermione, your bravery will do you more harm than good in this case. Pansy is beautiful, as you know, and the Dark Lord wants her. Fenrir's coming to get her. It's considered an honor. Her parents are thrilled, as she is too I'm sure." Draco shook his head, she wasn't really, but he was sure that she would be if she was named the Dark Lord's queen.

"Draco," she pleaded, "how can you sit here and do nothing? Someone will get hurt if they get in Fenrir's way, even if they're completely innocent."

"No one's going to get hurt." He reached out and touched her cheek softly. She looked like she was about to cry. He didn't understand why she was so upset. The Dark Lord wasn't going to do anything foolish.

"But what if someone does? What if Pansy is just a cover up, and Fenrir is actually coming to kill Harry?" Draco straightened; he hadn't thought of that. Could it be possible that the Dark Lord was keeping this from the Death Eaters? Or maybe the Death Eaters were keeping it from their children. Was it possible that Fenrir coming and Draco officially handing Pansy to him was all a show? He looked down at Hermione, who was worriedly awaiting his answer.

"No," he shook his head confidently, "it wouldn't make sense for that to happen. I would know."

"How, Draco?" She was growing curious now. She had probably not expected that he was as involved in the dark arts as he was. She probably had no idea that while she was resting in his arms right now, the dark mark was coming to life on his arm. He winced a bit with the burning sensation and knew that that meant the Dark Lord was calling his closest followers to him for a meeting. So far, Draco was not under the obligation to respond to these callings because he was still in school and could not apparate on Hogwarts grounds.

"I just would, Hermione." He said it in a way that meant there was no room for argument. She looked down and chewed on her lip. He could tell by the way she was staring at his arm, that she knew he was a Death Eater. Though he was wearing his school sweater, it felt like her innocent eyes were burning away the fabric so that she could see him for who he really was. For who his parents made him to be. And yet, she didn't pull away from his hold on her. It almost seemed as if she'd relaxed a bit. That wouldn't make any sense at all though.

"Promise?" She asked after a minute. He debated this for a minute. Could he promise something that he wasn't entirely sure of himself? He definitely didn't want to lie to her, but he was fairly sure that the Dark Lord would've informed him if Harry Potter was going to die tonight. Surely he would've wanted all the help he could get and now that Draco was becoming very learned in the art of darkness, surely the Dark Lord would've wanted his help.

Draco nodded once, briefly, and she smiled softly when he did. Draco didn't like the feelings that coursed through him with that smile, feelings of affection and gratification in making her happy. He didn't like that maybe his feelings for Hermione were deeper than those of a sexual need.


End file.
